


Deadboy Party

by ModdedDrew



Category: Deadboy Party, Original Work
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Assassins, Cyberpunk, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModdedDrew/pseuds/ModdedDrew
Summary: It is the year 2195. Deadboy is a young assassin who works for the Red Crows. However, Deadboy's world gets thrown upside down after killing an important politician. Alongside him is his best friend Colt Walker who tries to help Deadboy navigate through the world of assassinations. The worse part is Deadboy has a crush on his best friend, Colt. Taking place in Motion City, a dirty Cyberpunk area in the torn down West.





	1. Chapter 1: Tied Down

“A young man playing a deadly game…”

The rushing feeling of anxiety courses through Deadboy. The buzzing noise of a defective light bulb hangs over his head as it also blinds him. It makes looking around the room nearly impossible right now, but he knows exactly where he is. Deadboy is currently in the basement of Abel Franklin, an infamous serial killer.

The job was supposed to be easy for him. The Red Crows had assigned it to him in hopes to motivate Deadboy to do better on his missions. After all, Deadboy is primarily assigned low end targets. Being a full time assassin, Deadboy normally never runs into any major problems on his missions but there is a first time for everything. 

When Deadboy was told to assassinate Abel Franklin, he went looking into every aspect of the man’s life. Days later, Deadboy finds himself outside his target’s home. He then needed to sneak inside and finish the job. 

When he arrived early that night, he saw Abel Franklin enter his home after a long day of work. Deadboy assumed the old man would be exhausted after working long grueling hours in a hospital.

So Deadboy stalked around the house in the hope to find an easy way inside. An unlocked window that leads to the basement caught his attention. With a smile on his face, Deadboy crawled through the window. However nothing ever really goes smooth for him. 

As he tried to make a quiet entrance, Deadboy ended up falling through the window and landed inside the basement with a loud crash. A table was under the window. It was covered with plenty of vials, bunsen burners, and tools. The harsh landing made Deadboy nearly crack the wooden table and sent everything on the table falling to the surrounding ground around him.

Glass ended up shattering and heavy tools land on the concrete ground next to Deadboy. At the time, he was in such a daze of the fall that he did not hear Franklin enter the basement. 

The foot stomps were frantic as Franklin was checking to see what could have created such a noise. To Deadboy’s dismay, he found himself at the feet of the other man. When Deadboy tried to look up at Franklin, a shimmer of only a needle could be seen as it got shoved into the back of Deadboy’s neck. Within seconds he fell unconscious.

Now he is in a situation he has never found himself in before, an assassin now tied down to a metal table with an insane doctor standing over him. When he awakens from his slumber, Deadboy tries to look around the room despite the blinding light bulb glaring down on him. 

The dangerous man is hovering over Deadboy with a large butcher knife in hand. Franklin tilts his head as if he is studying a newfound specimen. The blank face on Franklin sends chills down Deadboy’s spine as he tries to not make eye contact with the man.

Franklin’s light brown eyes are too cold for Deadboy, and reminds him too much of other assassins. The cool calculated look on his wrinkled face tells Deadboy that he is not this man’s first captive. His exterior is too calm. Most of Deadboy’s targets end up crying and begging for mercy right before he kills them. However, this man looks down at Deadboy as if he is harmless. With Deadboy being tied down, he is completely harmless for now.

“Tell me, why are you here?” Franklin asks boredly.

“To kill you,” Deadboy replies back. His voice wavers slightly out of nervousness and Deadboy wants to kick himself for it. He must look pathetic to the other man right now. Deadboy almost does not want to make it out alive in case the other Red Crows hear about this. The other assassins would never let him hear the end of it if they found out he got captured on a basic mission. He’d take his chances with death than to be picked on by his coworkers.

“Now why would someone, such as yourself, wish to kill me,” the doctor asks. He gives a mocking hum after his question. “Do you have some sort of personal vendetta against me? Was a loved one of yours one of my many victims?” The doctor smiles widely. His perfectly white teeth reflect the only lighting in the basement. He even moves in closer to Deadboy as he waits for an answer.

Despite being tied down, Deadboy tries to pull against his restraints. The metal cuffs keeping him down burns his skin every time he tries to pull away. Even as he wears a hoodie, the tightness of the cuffs makes his hands turn red. Deadboy feels the same tightness on his ankles as well.

It makes it nearly impossible for him to try and wiggle his feet a few inches. He is sure if he stays like this for too long he will probably end up bleeding by the lack of circulation.

“I don’t even know you,” Deadboy starts. “I’ve never even heard of you. I was just hired to kill you honestly.”

Franklin’s smile disappears. A frown replaces his face quickly and Deadboy has never seen a man look so offended before. “What do you mean you’ve never heard of me?!”

Deadboy flinches as Franklin yells at him. His voice bounces off the concrete walls and Deadboy is starting to think he is seriously dealing with a maniac. His temper changed far too quick for Deadboy. He wonders how long it would take Franklin to not want to deal with Deadboy and to slaughter him. The butcher knife in his hand looks scarier every passing minute.

“I’ve...never heard of you. I don’t know what you want me to say to that…” Deadboy replies.

Franklin tilts his head as if he does not believe him. Deadboy could see the complete disappointment on Franklin’s face. His shoulders start to slump slightly and the knife in his hand loosens. “I’ve been all over the news,” Dr. Franklin insists.

“I haven't had a holotv in like...three years. So I don't watch tv,” Deadboy admits reluctantly. He gives Franklin a sad smile, now almost feeling bad for not doing all his research on the man. Deadboy did read up something about Abel Franklin being accused for murdering of a couple of people. However, no proof was ever found on him.

Franklin does not seem to be buying it. “Don't you read the paper, boy?”

Deadboy gives a disgusted face. “I'm twenty five! I don't read the paper even if it’s all online now. Reading...you’re nuts.” Deadboy rolls his eyes. He does his best not to be afraid in this situation. Making light of a situation is the only thing he knows. After all, this might be his last moments. So Deadboy might as well enjoy it.

“You, young man, are unbelievable.” Franklin shakes his head as he removes a minor scuff mark on his blade by rubbing it against his white coat, that Deadboy assumes he uses for work. 

“Good thing in a few minutes you will be nothing but a corpse found decapitated in the ocean...that is if they find you. What do you say to that?” The doctor strolls behind the young man as he lets the knife scratch across the table as he drags it along the way. The blade screeches against the metal table and the noise forces Deadboy to grind his teeth together. The high pitched screeches from the blade give Deadboy a minor headache.

“Uhhh, why the ocean? Can't it be something nice like an amusement park? I'd love people to find my corpse on a roller coaster. A tru-true thrill-seeker would appreciate it.” Deadboy can feel his voice starting to shake. He is starting to lose his cool as he glances around the room for anything to aid in his escape.

“Excellent idea,” the Doctor nods his head in approval. The knife is brought up to his neck. It lingers ever so close and Deadboy is afraid to even swallow his saliva in fear of his neck bobbing closer to the edge of the blade. The knife is far too close to his neck even though his beard gives him some minor barrier between his flash and the blade.

His breath is almost gone in fear. Deadboy can feel his hands start to shake as he slowly starts to prepare his own death. He never thought he would die as a young adult. At least, he expected a car accident and not getting his throat cut open by a serial killer. He knows deep down that he should not have taken the job. Deadboy is not a hero. He is not a good guy and mostly, he is simply not a good assassin. Now he is going to pay for even trying to kill Franklin.

“Any last words?” The man sounds like a snake the way his words hiss together. It makes Deadboy sick and he picks up his head slightly to look the man in the eyes. His voice wants to crack as he keeps trying to keep a brave face.

“No...” The blade starts rubbing against his skin and soon a thin line on his neck is formed. His blood slowly starts to swell up on the wound and Deadboy can feel his heart racing in fear. The doctor looks down at him with an intense stare of fascination. Their eyes remain locked on each other. One is filled with fear while the other contains pure joy. If there is one thing that Deadboy knows is that even though he was originally doing this job for money, he wants this guy dead because he disgusts him. Who gets a thrill from taking a life?

The tone shakes Deadboy up as his eyes dilate.

“Perfect. Then it’s tim-”

RING!

The noise shakes Deadboy up as his eyes dilate. A phone call from the other side of the basement that seems to even have caught Franklin off guard. His expression changes quickly to annoyed in seconds.

RING! RING!

Franklin pulls the blade completely away from Deadboy, and Deadboy takes the moment to see where the noise came from. He is happy that it bought him more time to live. Across the room, a holo monitor hangs against the back wall. The bright baby blue lights continue to flash as it waits for someone to answer the call.

RING! RING! RING!

“Dammit! What is it now?!” Franklin walks away from Deadboy as a string of curse words escape his mouth, a clear indication that Franklin is short tempered. Franklin stomps away from Deadboy as his black boots squeak against the floors, and goes the table to answer the incoming call. Franklin is clearly enraged as he starts conversing with the person on the other line. Though the constant yelling is off putting to Deadboy, he sighs in relief as the doctor answers the phone call with his back turned against him. “What is it?! I’m in the middle of something important!”

Deadboy could try yelling for help in hopes the other person might hear. However, it would only anger the doctor even more and have him charge right at him with a knife in hand. It won’t do him any good with Deadboy dead. Instead, he takes a moment to breath and gathers his thoughts. A quick glance at the room tells Deadboy that Franklin keeps his area well organized. Though he also starts to take in the more disturbing details of the room. Looking at Franklin, Deadboy could see countless jars of fingers stored away in strange fluids on the shelves hanging over him. They float about in their jars as Deadboy assumes those were taken from Franklin’s past kills. He is disgusted. “No! You listen here! You need to figure it out on your own,” Franklin continues to yell.

Deadboy needs a plan right now. Deadboy wiggles his fingers around. He can feel his circulation being cut off at this point as his fingers are starting to turn red. At least they are not purple.

“No! You get the money somehow! I don't fucking care,” Dr. Franklin continue to rant on the phone to the other caller. The argument sounds petty but enough to buy Deadboy time.

Deadboy’s eyes finally start to adjust to the light setting in the room. The basement is hardly stocked with only a few items about. The only concerning thing in the room is the metal table he is strapped to and the tools not far from him but still completely out of his grasp. He inhales the air around him one more time and can smell the metallic scent of blood in the air from past murders along with the hint of bleach. The thought alone made him nauseous and his heart starts racing once more as sweat is starting to form on his forehead. Deadboy flexes his fingers near his leg pocket. A distinct clicking noise from his pocket brings Deadboy joy. It is his pocket knife. He forgot he had brought it with him and Franklin must have not checked him completely.

Deadboy glances at Franklin to ensure that he did not hear the noise. Franklin continues to argue. “I won’t tell you again! Those scammers are everywhere. If you buy one more damn-”

Deadboy starts blocking him out as he keeps trying to reach into his side pocket in his black pants. There is a mini pocket knife that will be enough for him and all he needs to do grab it. His left hand strains against the metal restraints and he can see his own hand turning into a sickly shade of purple now. He needs to get the knife. If he does not then he will surely die in Franklin’s basement. Deadboy stretches as best he could until his hands fit inside his pocket. Deadboy smirks.

“Listen, I need to take care of it tonight because I’m busy at the moment.” The Doctor continues to be oblivious to what is happening. He is too engaged in his conversation to notice anything else going on in the room. Deadboy wiggles around in his own pocket until the familiar object grazes his fingertips. A grin slips quickly onto his face.

“Yes,” he whispers. With a swift movement, Deadboy pulls out the knife and flicks it open.

“Yes, fix that mess and get over here when you are done. I got trash I need you to take care of.” The doctor turns around to glare at his captive but his eyes widen when he sees Deadboy with a knife in hand. Dr. Franklin hangs up the call quickly without a goodbye. Franklin grips his knife tighter as he begins to march over to his captive. “Where did you get that, boy?!” Deadboy grins wider.

He knows this is his chance to escape and to prove himself amongst the Red Crows. He can finally be the vigilante he always dreamed of being. Sure, he is for hire assassin but now he can take out this serial killer and save many lives in the process. The world would just know that Motion City has someone willing to risk their lives to remove the scum of the West.

“You are about to find out how.” With a pop of a wrist, Deadboy flicks the blade out of his hands and aims it straight towards the doctor's face. There is a moment where Deadboy can feel the world start to slow down for a moment. The flick of the blade cuts harshly through the air. The pocket knife flips through the air and Deadboy gives a light laugh.

Doctor Franklin’s eyes naturally dilate as his own instincts kick in as the blade hurtles towards him. Survival instincts forces Franklin to rotate his body left to try and avoid the deadly weapon with finesse. The blade narrowly missed the doctor and hits a nearby jar filled with clear, sticky liquid and fingers. The jar shatters on contact and sprays everywhere. Sticky fingers fall to the ground with a loud thud as they start rolling off the table. Glass and fluids spray about the room as most of it coats onto Franklin. The force of the throw is powerful enough to even send of the fluids to land on Deadboy as well, despite his distance.

Yet, most of it builds up under the doctor’s feet. “You little brat!” Franklin shifts from fear to anger in a second. All while Deadboy feels his blood runs cold once more.

“Shit…”


	2. Chapter 1: Tied Down 2

The doctor tries to make a mad dash to his captive with his own knife in hand. He is two stomps in when the ground beneath him becomes far too slippery for his own good. A dismembered finger catches the under part of his sole causing Franklin to lose his balance. He falls right on the ground and stretches his hands out at the last second. The butcher knife in his own hand slips out of his reach. The blade land right under Franklin, and with the force of gravity, the knife points upward just long enough for Franklin to fall directly on top of it. The knife punctures right into the doctor's neck. It pierces cleanly as the butcher gets lodged into his neck. Blood gushes out like a water fountain and a sick gurgling sounds can be heard as Franklin twitches on the ground in pain. He gasps for air and even Deadboy looks startled by what happened.

“Holy shit!” Deadboy can only stare with wide eyes as the doctor slowly chokes to death in his own blood. The gasping for air continues for a few more moments until silence eats up the room.

Deadboy sighs in relief and lays his head back down. Then within a moment, he can feel his emotions swell up with joy that he knows he will live another day. Within a moment tears start to slowly pour as he gives a light laugh. “Aw man...I’m alive. I’m fucking really gonna live.” It’s almost hard for him to fully comprehend that this actually went his way. “I’m alive! Oh, thank God!” He wiggles his fingers in pure excitement and remains strapped down until he finally realized that he is still trapped. Now, he feels stupid. “Oh shit. How do I get out now?” He looks around the room helplessly for a moment. “Help! Aw dammit.” Deadboy then slams his head back on the table helplessly and with a minor case of agitation.

It is not until hours later that Deadboy hears a noise once more. At this point, he has already taken two naps, stared at the ceiling, and made a few jokes about Franklin slipping and dying. It’s all kind of funny to him. Unfortunately, his boredom quickly consumes him and as he is forced to lay on the table with only his thoughts keeping him company. It isn’t until the minor sound of footsteps on the first floor over his head is heard. Shoes tap against the first floor as someone is walking at a slow pace above him. Deadboy hesitates to call out to the person. The last thing he needs is to run into a crazy assistant of the doctor’s. Sure, he is unaware if Franklin was working alone or not, but this is still Franklin’s house.

Chances are it will be another person willing to kill Deadboy to ensure that information of what happened in the basement would stay there. Though he is trap. Even if he wanted to hide, or run, Deadboy is at the mercy of whoever it is upstairs. Taking a deep breath, he decides to risk calling out for help. “Hello?! Anyone upstairs?! I could sure use some help down here!” He yells as best he could and then lets out a whisper. “Unless you are also a killer.” He starts praying for the best as the footsteps upstairs stop for a moment and start jogging to where Deadboy assumes is the basement door is.

The basement door creaks open and Deadboy stretches his head to see who it is. “Uh, if you are coming to kill me then you can just untie me and leave. Thanks.” He can not see anyone yet, but there is a light laughter and footsteps take their time going down the basement stairs. “Uh, I’m assuming you aren’t gonna kill me.” Deadboy still can not see properly.

The person makes it to the bottom of the step with a light squeak from shoes. “I mean, asking nicely should be enough not to die.” Deadboy purposely places his voice in a higher octave as he starts grinding his teeth. Then laughter erupts from the figure as they make their way to the table. “Deadboy? Holy shit. What the fuck happened to yah?” The voice registers quickly to Deadboy’s ears and a rush relief comes over him. It is Colt, an old time friend and sometimes his savior.

“Oh, thank God it’s you. Hey, mind untying me,” Deadboy asks.

Colt stands over him in amazement. He still looks completely curious as to what is going on. Deadboy can see Colt taking a few looks around the room. Even with a corpse not far from them, Colt does not fazed at all by it. He is clearly used to this. “You still wanna explain yourself?” Colt starts shaking his head as he looks back at Deadboy. Their eyes lock for a moment as Colt’s cybernetic eyes glow a bright blue and it stands out completely against his dark skin. Miniature triangles and circles in his iris looks over Deadboy as he tries not to be too distracted with the corpse not too far from him. The glow in his eyes are almost always off putting for Deadboy. Born blind is what Colt always would say. A simple birth defect that was going to leave him blind forever and his parents, both high ranking members of the Red Crows, requested surgery immediately to allow Colt to have vision.

They couldn’t allow their only son to be blind. They wanted him to follow in their footsteps. They viewed his blindness as a weakness even though now, Colt insists that he would have been okay with the idea of being blind. However, cybernetic eyes were instead installed at a young age and some even view it as an upgrade compared to normal human vision. Nothing escapes Colt’s eyes. Every drop of blood in the room can be seen along with every sweat drop on Deadboy’s forehead.

“I’ll tell you later,” Deadboy states. He breaks eye contact with his best friend. Deadboy then does another quick tug of his restraints in hope that Colt will release him soon.

His friend sees the action and decides not to let Deadboy suffer much longer. Colt slowly starts releasing his friend from his retrains. Deadboy sigh in relief as he looks Colt down now that he is no longer tied down. He is wearing his normal attire. Black baggy pants that are tight around his ankles. His shoes are a nice pair of black and purple high tops. Colt loves to wear high end shoes even on assassin missions. Collecting shoes, Deadboy knows, is one of Colt’s many hobbies. Colt notices Deadboy looks spaced out and snaps his fingers to his friend's face. “You alright,” Colt asks simply. Deadboy glances up quickly over Colt’s black hoodie covering multiple layers of clothing with a vest resting over it that Deadboy knows carries small tools and weapons. His friend is always prepared as he also has a strap on backpack hanging on him. Maybe that is why Colt never finds himself in these situations.

“Yeah!” Deadboy sits up from the table as Colt looks over his friend concern. However, Deadboy ignores the look and jumps off the table quickly to pull Colt into a quick and tight hug. “Hey, I owe you big time. Seriously.” Deadboy lets out a laughter as Colt smirks back at his friend.

“You do. Take a guy out to dinner for once. Damn,” Colt jokes as he carefully steps over the pool of blood as he tries to get a closer look at Deadboy’s victim. “Damn, you did a number on ‘em. Oh, wait! I know this guy! You were hired to kill the Four Fingered Butcher? I'm so jealous dude. I've only been getting’ targets that have avoided jail time or gangstas. Never anything huge like this.” Colt hovers over the corpse and gives it a light tap with his foot. “You did good, man. This guy was a real baddy and I don't think he planned on retiring anytime soon.” He shakes his head at the now dead man.

“Thanks I guess. You should have seen it. It was all part of my plan,” Deadboy lies obviously as his friend pokes at the dead doctor on the floor.

“Ha. So tell me then. Why were you strapped to a table?” Colt moves away from the body and starts going through his backpack.

“I told you, it was all part of my plan. When I found out where the doc lived, I thought it would be cool to enter in through the window,” Deadboy tries to explain.

“Why are you like this?” Colt rolls his eyes.

“It was a mistake. I know I messed up, and I got caught for it.” He points to the tiny window in the basement and Colt only glances at it shortly before pulling out a small bottle of purple liquid. The bottle has no labels but does bubble up suspiciously inside.

“A bit?” Colt pops open the bottle and starts pouring it slowly on the doctor. Nothing happens at first. The liquid simply just pools around him. Deadboy already knows what the liquid is and instead focuses on telling his story.

“He shoved this needle inside me. Next thing I know, I'm knocked out cold.” Deadboy shakes his head at his own comment. The purple liquid soon starts to foam up and move as if it has a mind of its own. It slowly starts to wrap around the entire doctor's body and makes a sizzling sound. Deadboy can see the body slowly starting to dissolve in the liquid. None seem to be fazed or concern as to what is happening in front of them. This is not their first time doing this.

“Were you scared,” Colt asks bluntly.

“I was when I woke up. The guy had me strapped to the table and was ready to gut me. So the question is, how did you find me?”

The body quickly starts turning into nothing as even the bones also start to disintegrate in the liquid.

“Man, I heard rumors of who you were sent to kill and I knew I had to check it. I always wondered who he was. Didn't think it would be this guy.” Colt points to the puddle of fluids and shakes his head in disappointment. Nothing shows that the puddle was once a body. They stay silent for a moment before Colt lets out a cough. “You’re going to run out of luck some day, you know?” A minor concern look enters Colt’s face. His brows soften and Deadboy feels bad for worrying Colt.

“But not today. Here I am! Still alive, somehow.” Deadboy voice trails off slightly with an almost depressed tone. There is then a slight shift to quietness in the room.

Colt sighs but decides not to pursue the conversation as he points to the door. “Well, lets fuckin’ bail then. I guess dinner’s on you then?” Colt moves away from the death before him and walks his way to the stairs to leave the basement.

“Oh! Sure. Thanks for saving me back there. Really appreciate it.” Deadboy follows close behind only to take a quick look back at the remains to give a quick salute at the pooling blood and acid on the floor.

“Try not to make it a habit,” Colt begs.

Deadboy does not say anything as he knows this won’t be the last time he would need Colt’s help. They make their way out of the house without touching anything. All doors are opened carefully with gloves and no shoe prints are left behind. They go outside and Deadboy finally realizes how much time has passed. When starting his mission it was about six at night. Now it's pitch black. The world is quiet and almost nobody can be seen.

“You got the time,” Deadboy asks. The cold streets only light up when they pass under motion sensored light posts that float over the sidewalks.

Colt looks at the corner of his unusual eye and can see his holographic clock tell him the time. “Late. It’s gonna be one soon.” Deadboy can’t help but to go wide eyed at the time.

“Wait! You mean to tell me no one’s heard of me for like seven hours? Why didn’t the Red Crows send someone to help?!” Colt shushes his friend as they continue to casually make their way through the neighborhood. The area is clearly for well off upper middle class and they did not belong, at least Deadboy didn’t.

“That’s why I went searching for you. I get fuckin’ worried about you. You always end up in tight shit like this. So I asked Gabriella where she sent you to,” his friend explains calmly. They continue walking down the street for another block. Colt knows better than to park his ride too close to targets. It will draw attention. “Look, what matters is you’re safe now, man. Come on. Let’s go get your cash for the job. You still killed a man after all.” Deadboy can not bring himself to comment on his friend’s statement.

On the side of the road is the motorbike V45-2M. It is completely coated in a creamy blue with white bars and outline. Colt always did have expensive taste and he takes great pride in his material possessions. Deadboy likes the bike for other reasons.

“Here. I brought you a helmet ‘cause I had a feeling you would still be kickin’,” Colt says as he hands over a small chip. Deadboy takes the bright green chip and places it on the side of his left brain. It lights up instantly and soon hard plastic starts to morph around his face. Padding on the inside starts to form and soon a simple black helmet sits comfortably on his head.

“Thanks.” Deadboy gives an awkward thumbs up and Colt laughs and returns it. His friend places the same chip on the side of his head It slicks around his head like a strange fluid before hardening, and the only difference is that Colt’s helmet matches the bike. Deadboy hears two beeps in his helmet and then suddenly hears Colt’s voice muffled on a radio.

“Like the new microphones I installed in these bad boys,” Colt asks as he gets on his bike with his visor down. “The original ones sucked. These bad boys can help you communicate with someone over a mile. I say it was a good investment.” Deadboy gets on the bike too and clings to his friend’s back.

“Mics have been around for hundreds of years, Colt. This isn’t anything new,” Deadboy reminds.

Colt laughs.“Technology can always improve!”

Deadboy hears the bike turns on and he speaks up one final time before they take off. “Thanks again, Colt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking out my story! More coming out soon!


End file.
